Life String
by Lady Merridell of Penndragon
Summary: Sometimes, in order to discover what and who you are, sacrifices need to be made, even if it can result in the most precious and delicate of gifts. Life.
1. Chapter 1

**This fanfic is dedicated to Kumama, one the most brilliant deviants one deviantart (her Hobbit comics are hilarious XD). In honor of her amazing artwork and many wonderful laughs, I present to you **_**Life String**_** based off of many of her works. I am having so much fun with this character and I apologize if this first chapter seems a bit dry. The rest of this story is going to be complex and, hopefully, **_**brilliant**_**! Not to mention that more will have to written once the next two Hobbit movies come out. There may also be **_**some **_**book-verse in these fanfics (just to keep the realities of Tolkiens world in check for those who are big time Tolkien fans). No Mary Sues here. Constructive criticism is welcome as always, but don't flame me. It burns in many places.**

**EDIT****: Oh, and a quick note, according to one guest they had to read one chapter and thought it wasn't worth it, but persevered and now they love it. Please read at least to chapter three before you toss it aside, because there is **_**SO**_** much more to this story than chapter one suggests (and thank you so much to that wonderful guest for their honesty and for continuing on before judging my story).**

**Lovest Always, Lady Merridell**

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own The Hobbit or anything Tolkien related. In fact, I don't even own Kumama! She kinda owns herself and gave me permission to do this. If anything in here is incorrect then inform me in the comments and I promise I'll fix it.**

Chapter 1

_There was once a young dwarrow, sweet as spring, kind as the shade of a great tree in the summer, and hardy as rock._

A lone figure stood on the little pathway and shifted from foot to foot nervously. The moon was absent that night and wisps of cloud drifted sleepily across the starry seas above. Vast emerald grasslands swayed in the cool night breeze and here are there windows embedded in the rolling hills shone with light. An occasional halfling would could be seen walking in the distance, perhaps coming home from a visit to the local pub or from a hard nights work in the crop.

The newcomer glanced down at their map, squinting. After a moment of silent contemplation they turned the map right-side up and sighed. _It's no use. Everything's blurred. _

Rolling up the map, wincing slightly as it crinkled loudly and disturbed the meditative silence of the evening. Readjusting their pack, the stranger wandered up the path, searching for any sign. Anything that could possibly aid in their search for a certain hobbit smial.

Up ahead, to their immense relief, glowed the bright blurry blue mark of Gandalf the Gray upon the round green porthole-like door of the hobbit's home. _This must be Bag End_, they thought, both relieved and excited.

The lights were on, so the hobbit was quite awake. There would be no awkwardly-disturbing-the-burglar's-slumber. And from all the noise inside it was easy to perceive that several members of the party had already arrived, so there would be no awkwardly-trying-to-make-conversation-without-scar ing-the-burglar moments.

Ever since they had first entered the Shire, any and all hobbits that strayed across their path either stared or shied away. One even dared to chase them off with a pitchfork with a clump of straw still stuck in it back at the Marish.

Halflings just weren't used to the sight of such an odd creature.

None of this mattered, if course. This was the anticipated moment come true. All the hard work, all the trials, and determination had lead up to this moment. The chance to prove themself.

Taking a deep breath, the figure wandered up to the little hobbit smial. Heart racing, the figure raised a hand and knocked rapidly, then stepped back and waited with bated breath until the door opened.

In the doorway stood a very agitated hobbit, his sandy curls ruffled as though he had run his hands through it several times. He wore a patchwork robe tied tight with a sash. The hobbit was a bit pudgy and had a slight twitch to him, which must have been a good sign. At least they had a burglar with fast reflexes.

A quick glance at his feet confirmed the stranger's presumptions and then, unsure of quite how to introduce themselves, the newcomer bowed, then quickly shifted to a curtsy, but decided it was much too awkward without a skirt, then changed their mind thinking to give a handshake, decided this was too informal, and attempted to speak. It all came out as a squeak and, overcome, hugged the hobbit.

The hobbit bachelor's eyes widened in surprise at the sudden gesture. "Uh...do-do I know you, by any chance?" he asked, squinting in confusion.

"Yes-I mean-uh-no...I mean if you count-no wait! That wasn't exactly-uh-no, um-haha. I don't believe we've met in person-I mean-yeah," she stammered, waving her hands and gesturing wildly. Bilbo stared at her incredulously. What could she mean? Was she possibly ill?

"Uh, sorry, its just, uh-haha-um...my name's Kumama," she said, sticking out her hand, trying to calm the screams in her head. _Durin's beard! I mean, wow! The burglar. The burglar! He's so cute and tiny and- I mean, brave to volunteer. He's quite small. But not as small as I thought-wait!-that's probably because I'm almost his height, but not quite-I mean...oh what am I thinking? I should just-wait! Is that Dwalin in the other room?_ Suddenly she rushed inside and ran straight for the kitchen.

Bilbo Baggins stared after the girl incredulously and opened then closed his mouth as though unsure of what to say, exactly, and instead shook his head in frustration and closed the door. It was the oddest greeting he'd received thus far.

Bilbo hurried into the kitchen where the girl was speaking-blubbering, actually-with the other dwarves that had arrived, so far being only the two who called themselves Balin and Dwalin. Dwalin frowned at her as though he might make her disappear merely by staring whilst Balin listened, smiling politely.

Kumama had dark brown hair, a blue farmer's shirt that looked as though it had been stitched in several not-so-discreet places to fit, brown breeches, brown eyes, and looked as though she couldn't quite see clearly. She had the trademark hobbit feet though they were slightly smaller and looked a bit paler than they should, as though she wore shoes on some occasions. Kumama, herself, was a bit taller than most hobbits should be, and her ears were only slightly pointed as though caught between human and elf. The poor child looked caught between races.

Bilbo had heard of mixed beings though they were rarely seen and often times discouraged from society. Of course the Tooks cared little for that sort of high society and, being a Took, Bilbo decided against mentioning it. Besides, it was impolite to discuss mixed breeding amongst guests. Unless, that is, they were unwanted guests.

He hurried towards the group, opening his mouth to say something when there was a knock on the door. With a frustrated growl he changed course.

He opened the door and was greeted by two more dwarves.

"Fili," said one with honey-colored hair.

"-and Kili," added the darker-haired one.

"-at your service," they declared with a bow.

"Are you Mister Boggins?" asked the dark-haired one.

"I believe you have the wrong house," he piped, "good day," and then made to close the door when Fili stopped him.

"Has it been canceled?" he asked.

"Canceled? Nothing's been canceled!" Bilbo exclaimed, knitting his eyebrows. _Much less planned._

"Well that's a relief," Kili said, grinning widely. The two opened the door easily, much to Bilbo's dismay,

and began removing their cloaks and various weaponry.

"Careful with this, just had it polished," Fili said, dropping a rather hefty sword in its sheathe into the job it's arms. Kili began scrapping the mud off his boots on-

"Excuse me, don't do that, that's my mother's glory box, can you please not do that," he called, trying to be as polite and hospitable as a proper hobbit should be.

At that moment the great tattooed giant of a dwarf stomped in, thankfully distracting Fili and Kili.

"Mr. Dwalin," Kili greeted cheerfully.

"She's here," Dwalin rumbled quietly.

"Who?" Kili asked. His question was answered when suddenly a dark-haired creature whipped around the corner and smacked into both dwarves.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," she exclaimed. Dwalin just grunted while Kili waved it off.

"No need to be sorry. I take it you are Kumama?"

"Yes, how did you know?!"

"Your name precedes you," he replied. Suddenly there was knock and a shout from down the hall.

"No, there's nobody home! I have enough dwarves in my house as it is. If this is some kind of joke-"there was rather annoyed laugh-"then it is in very poor taste."

The door was opened and Kumama witnessed a tidal wave of dwarves spill onto the carpet, groaning and complaining as they attempted to extract themselves from the tangled knot. There, in the hallway, stood the one who had gathered together these dwarves, who offered to aid in the return to Erebor, who had selected their burglar, and invited Kumama along with the promise of a place to belong, to discover what she truly was, and a chance to prove herself.

"Gandalf," Bilbo sighed.

"No please, put that back! Put that back!" The hobbit weaved through the crowd, attempting to put a stop to the raid on his pantry. Of course, it was all quite fruitless.

Meanwhile, amid the chaos, Gandalf attempted a head count.

"Let's see...Nori, Ori...Dwalin...ah, Kumama. You came," he rasped, his blue eyes twinkling kindly.

"I did, Gandalf. I'm so excited for this! It's going to be the best adventure-oh!" Kumama, in her excitement, stumbled back and collided with a dwarf, who at the moment was carrying a plate of tomatoes to be baked. He turned to look down at the young... hobbit? No, possibly human? Either way, she was on the floor.

"My apologies, lassie. I didn't see ye there," he apologized, extending a hand to help her up. Kumama, however, stared at him in awe. He just beamed at her. "The name's Bofur. And yours?"

Eventually Kumama took his offered hand and felt shocked at the warmth that spread through her hand and to her toes. _What is this?_ He pulled her up and steadied her. My name...my name?! Um, what is my name-no, what am I thinking...uhm...

"Kumama," she finally said, still a bit dazed.

"That's a nice name, Kumama. Where are you from, lass?"

"Exile," she answered, mind still numb, then suddenly realized what she had said. "Oh! I mean, uh, the Blue Mountains."

"The Blue Mountains, ye say? You must have been at the Council for the Quest," Bofur said.

"Oh, no, I mean yes-well, sort of," she sputtered. Technically she was there…

"Wasn't able to make it, Bombur and I," he sighed. "We were conveniently missing that night. Speaking of which, you haven't met my brothers! Come, I'll introduce ye."

Gandalf chuckled as the two wove through the current and continued his count.

The rest of the night passed in a blue. Kumama met Bombur, who was the gentle giant with a refined taste for food, and Bifur who spoke an ancient form of Khudzul, which Kumama had failed to learn unfortunately, though she did know a few words. None of which, of course, Bifur used. Her dictionary included the words for _no, my, sheep, stop, off, no, vase, broken, no _(there were many interesting variations for that word)_,_ and a few choice words that she dared not even think about.

The rest of the dwarves Kumama knew fairly well. She also knew they didn't quite approve of her presence, with the exception of Fili, Kili, Ori, and Balin. Fili and Kili found her clumsy nature humorous and didn't seem to understand why the senior dwarves were cross. They continued to ponder why they recognized her, but seemed content to do so at a distance. Ori was too polite and innocent to care and Balin was, of course, Balin. Excepting of everyone.

Bofur, too, couldn't quite figure out what it was about her that caused even Dori to sigh in exasperation. She was enthusiastic, loyal, and ready to take back Erebor at all costs, like everyone else there (well, okay, most of them). Sure, her race was not certain, but when did that stop Nori? Perhaps in time he could-

"Bombur, catch!" One of his comrades tossed a strip of chicken and Bombur caught it, resulting in a raucous cheer and much stomping.

Kumama eventually found herself seated next to Bofur, who merrily chatted about anything and everything. Bifur was clearing the table and most of the dwarves had begun stomping. He was easy to talk to and only laughed if she said something strange and waved it off as though it were nothing.

"Here, follow our lead," Bofur whispered, interrupting her thoughts. He handed her a pair of butter knives and began stomping and clanging them with the dwarves across him. At first Kumama had a bit of trouble trying to keep up.

"Here lass, like this," he murmured gently, and slowly stomped and clanged, making sure to exaggerate the movements so she could get it right. "There ye go!"

Kumama smiled widely as she stomped and clanged and almost stopped when the hobbit came in.

"Please don't do that," he cried, "you'll blunt them!"

"Oh, do ya hear that, lads," Bofur exclaimed, winking at Kumama, "he says we'll blunt the knives."

"Blunt the knives, bend the forks," Kili sang, grinning mischievously.

"Smash the bottles and burn their corks," Fili added, bouncing plates off his elbows.

"Chip the glasses and crack the plates," the dwarrow all chorused.

"That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!" Body shouted.

"Cut the cloth and tread the fat!

"Leave the bones on the bedroom mat!" Kumama improvised, earning a grin and nod from Bofur.

"Pour the milk on the pantry floor!

Splash the wine on every door!"

Kumama attempted to balance the large pile of plates Ori had handed her. She managed to dodge Bilbo, who was staring up at the pile in horror. Suddenly her foot caught on the foot of a passing dwarf, sending several plates crashing to the floor. Thankfully they were caught by Bofur, who kicked them up to be caught by Oin and tossed to Bifur.

"Dump the crocks in a boiling bowl;

Pound them up with a thumping pole;

And when you've finished, if any are whole,

Send them down the hall to roll!"

Bofur pulled out his pipe flute and played along with Dori and Gloin, who banged and played a teapot.

"That's what Bilbo Baggins hates," they all finished with a shout. Kumama laughed along with the others, thankful for the lessening of the tension. However the festivities were short lived when there was a resounding bang at the door. For a moment everyone glanced at one another, then focused on the emerald green porthole.

"He's here."

**EDIT****: Quick note here about half breeds. No, I am not going to reveal Kumama's heritage, however I would like to discuss the subject, however rude or taboo it is. We're not hobbits, so I suppose it would be safe to say we are not being rude or imposing in the slightest. I have seen and read a few chapters of many fanfictions for The Hobbit in which the OC is half elf half hobbit, half hobbit half human, etc. It is almost uncommon to find any normal Middle Earth OC out there since most have mingled with elves to give the air of "perfection" or to avoid having a dwarf OC with beard or a Man which I'm sure most want a break from or even a hobbit with those great big furry boats for feet (although I fail to see what's wrong with them; I think they're dead useful for sneaking around since those feet are softly padded and can cover more ground in one step). I do take mixed breeding lightly. Many seem to forget how very different these races are and how uncomfortable it would really be to be a mix of them. Somehow the majority of mixed-race OCs manage to be graceful and fine as though there is nothing about their heritage that bothers them. The one exception to this, I think,is Half-Elven (the combination of Men and Elves). Tolkien states that Men and Elves can breed (thus Elrond and Arwen being Half-Elven). However nowhere does it state that Men and dwarves can't breed. The fact that Tolkien has not confirmed this leaves the idea that it is plausible, but not recommended which is where poor Kumama comes in. I haven't simply created Kumama simply for the fact of looks, but because it's all part of the story. I think I will have to stop there and let you mull that over. I'll save the rest for Kumama's mixed breed situation (yes, I have already written the explanation and can't wait to expose it :3 but it does sadden me since it may be a while yet to come)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you so much for the positive reviews! A very big "you are so very welcome' to Kumama ;D. I now have access to a Khudzul Dictionary so I can use some actual words from the ancient dwarvish tongue! How exciting!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own 'The Hobbit" as much as I would love to :C. No, I don't own the OC either (I never thought I'd get to say that XD). Kumama is her own person.**

Chapter 2

_However she was cursed by the dark wizard, Amrad, to wander in eternal night._

"Gandalf, I thought you said it would be easy to get here. I lost my way...twice." Kumama tensed at the voice and hid herself amongst the gathering of dwarves. What would he say?

She listened as the newcomer's voice drew closer. Kumama backed up. Maybe if she was quick enough she could escape through the-

"Kumama?"

Kumama froze at the commanding tones. She turned and smiled nervously, rubbing her head. "Oh-um, good evening, Thorin," Kumama stuttered. "It is a good evening, right?"

"What are you doing here," he asked. Kumama felt herself deflate. Perhaps this wasn't such a good idea after all...

Thorin was the very epitome of authority. He reeked authority and majesty. The King Under the Mountain was taller than most dwarves, taller than even Dwalin. He had hair like the darkest of nights and was streaked with gray from both age and the stress of caring for the members of his fallen kingdom. His eyes were a deep blue and she swore that every time she looked into them he could see right into her soul as though searching for any sign of naughtiness, disobedience, guilt or mischief. And he could find it. No wonder Fili and Kili avoided looking at him when they did anything he might not approve of.

"I just thought I'd come, you know, to help bring back-" she was cut off.

"Leave," Thorin said flatly. Kumama made for the door, not wishing to argue with him. Not after-

"No, Kumama, you will stay," Gandalf called. She looked back suddenly, surprised.

"Gandalf, what are you doing?" Thorin growled, straightening to his full height.

"I invited Kumama. You ask for a fourteenth member, and I bring it-"

Thorin cut him off. "But I did not ask for a_ fifteenth_ member."

"Kumama is my apprentice, she must come," Gandalf replied coolly.

"I am?" Gandalf glanced at her meaningfully. "I-I mean-yes, I am."

"Gandalf, have you seen what she is capable of? She is a walking disaster," Thorin snapped.

"Which is precisely why she is my apprentice," Gandalf insisted.

"I will not have her," the dwarf continued.

"But I will," the wizard countered.

"I-I could lea-" Kumama began, pointing at the door.

"No, Kumama," Gandalf interrupted.

"Okay," she murmured. The dwarrow and wizard stared one another down.

"Gandalf, I will not endanger her. This is for her own safety, I will not have another death weighing on my mind," the King of Durin growled.

"You won't. I will. She will be my responsibility," Gandalf promised. The moments stretched into long, tense minutes.

"Fine," Thorin sighed, then turned suddenly to Bilbo as though something had occurred to him. The hobbit jumped back slightly. "Tell me, Mr. Baggins, have you done much fighting?"

"Pardon me?"

"Axe or sword? What's your weapon of choice?" Thorin explained.

"Well, I have some skill at Conkers, if you must know, but I fail to see why that's relevant," Bilbo informed, frowning.

"Thought as much. He looks more like a grocer than a burglar." There were collective chortles.

Thorin turned and left for the kitchen. Oin, Gloin, Dwalin, and Balin followed him. Then, one by one, the rest of the company filed in. "I could do with something to eat," he called.

The hobbit jumped and hurried off to get something fixed, thankful that it had all calmed down and he could at least pretend it was a pleasant visit.

Kumama sighed and twiddled her fingers. At first Thorin had insisted she wait in the hallway. Gandalf, of course, vetoed this and she now sat next to him on a stool. She shifted, trying to get comfortable on the little stool. In fact, it was most likely meant to be a stepping stool and not actually for sitting.

"What news from the meeting in Ered Luin? Did they all come?" Balin asked. All eyes looked to Thorin, who sat sipping at his stew unlike the rest of the company, who saw no fault in wolfing down everything set on their plate.

"Aye. Envoys from all seven kingdoms," Thorin confirmed. Murmurs of approval rippled around the table.

"What do the dwarves of the Iron Hills say?" Dwalin inquired.

"Yes, is Dain with us?" Kumama asked, attempting to contribute to the conversation.

There was a hopeful pause. Thorin looked up, eyes clear of emotion. For a moment he stared at Kumama then spoke.

"They will not come," he murmured. This was met with much disappointment. "They say this quest is ours, and ours alone."

"You're going on a quest?" Kumama looked up to see the hobbit, leaning in curiously from the door side. She had all but forgotten about him, feeling already quite confused as to whether or not she was a member of this company since two very important persons said two very different things. _Who do I listen to?!_

"Bilbo, my dear fellow, let us have a little more light," Gandalf rasped. The hobbit took a candle and set it down on the table.

"Far to the East, over ranges and rivers, beyond woodlands and wastelands, lies a single solitary peak." Gandalf set out a map of the area surrounding the Erebor, from the desolation of Smaug to the Laketown and Dale.

"The Lonely Mountain," Mr. Baggins read. The map must have been newer since Kumama still had the older version from Smithy. Instead of the desolation there was the hills near the path, Sudlthurkh, which was destroyed in the dragon fire. Suddenly a flash of the bright flames flared in her mind's eye. Kumama let out a small gasp and rubbed her head, squeezing her eyes shut.

"Is everything alright, Kumama?" She glanced up at Gandalf, Bilbo, and Thorin along with the rest of the company, who were curious as to what Gandalf was referring to. Her eyes found a slightly blurred shape that must have been Bofur with his strange little hat, and quickly looked away.

"Nothing," she said, smiling. "Just-um-you know, nothing." After a few moments Gandalf nodded and turned back to the map.

_That's strange_, she thought, _where did that come from?_ Gloin's deep timbre interrupted her thoughts.

"Aye. Oin has read the portents, and the portents say it is time," he rumbled.

"Ravens have been seen flying back to the mountain as it was foretold: _When the birds of yore return to Erebor, the reign of the beast will end_," Oin confirmed with a nod.

"Uh, w-what beast?" Bilbo looked suddenly quite nervous.

"Well that would be a reference to Smaug the Terrible, chiefest and greatest calamity of our age. Airborne fire-breather, teeth like razors, claws like meat hooks, extremely fond of precious metals-" Bofur was cut off.

"Yes, I know what a dragon is," Bilbo snapped.

"I'm not afraid," Ori declared, standing and holding his ax high over his head like a standard. "I'll give 'im a taste of dwarvish iron right up his-"

"Sit down," growled Dori, pulling the youngest dwarf down. There were a few chuckles and eye rolling from the elder dwarves.

"The task would be difficult enough with an army behind us," Balin added. "But we number just thirteen, and not thirteen of the best, nor brightest."

"Hey, who are you callin' dim!"

"Oi!"

"What did he say?" Oin held up his ear trumpet, confused.

"Oh my goodness," Kumama sighed.

"We may be few in number, but we're fighters, all of us, to the last dwarf!" Fili called.

"And you forget, we have a wizard in our company," Kili chimed. "Gandalf will have killed _hundreds_ of dragons in his time."

Kumama looked up at Gandalf to confirm these rumors.

"Oh, well, now, uh, I-I-I wouldn't say that, I- " Gandalf stammered.

"How many, then?" Dori asked.

"What?" Gandalf squinted.

"Well, how many dragons have you killed? Go on, give us a number!"

The dwarves leapt to their feet, debating just how many dragons Gandalf had killed. Meanwhile Gandalf was attempting to deny this without crushing the company's spirit. Kumama wasn't quite sure what to do. The number of dragons Gandalf had supposedly slain multiplied.

"Um-I don't think-" she was interrupted once more.

"_Shazara_!" Thorin stood, silencing the onslaught of bets and accusations. Kumama jumped and looked up at Thorin quickly. "If we have read these signs, do you not think others will have read them too? Rumors have begun to spread. The dragon Smaug has not been seen for 60 years. Eyes look east to the Mountain, assessing, wondering, weighing the risk. Perhaps the vast wealth of our people now lies unprotected. Do we sit back while others claim what is rightfully ours? Or do we seize this chance to take back Erebor? _Du Bekâr! Du Bekâr!"_

The dwarves roared their approval and conversed excitedly.

"You forget: the front gate is sealed. There is no way into the mountain," Balin sighed.

"That, my dear Balin, is not entirely true." From seemingly nowhere Gandalf produced a key. Kumama stared at it in wonder. It was of a fine craftsmanship and ornately wrought.

"How came you by this?" Thorin murmured, staring at it.

"It was given to me by your father, by Thrain, for safekeeping. It is yours now," Gandalf said, handing the key over. Thorin held the key, looking at it in a wondrous almost reverent manner.

"If there is a key, there must be a door," Fili said quite obviously.

Gandalf looked over the map once more and glanced at Kumama, inviting her to join him. She looked at the map once more. On the side of it were the same blotches, which and turned out to be dwarvish runes once viewed in the light, she had wondered over on her map.

"These runes speak of a hidden passage to the lower halls," the wizard explained.

"There's another way in!" Kili declared, looking excited.

"Well, if we can find it, but dwarf doors are invisible when closed. The answer lies hidden somewhere in this map and I do not have the skill to find it. But there are others in Middle-earth who can. The task I have in mind will require a great deal of stealth, and no small amount of courage. But, if we are careful and clever, I believe that it can be done." Gandalf looked around at the company.

"That's why we need a burglar," Ori said.

"Hmm, A good one, too. An expert, I'd imagine," Bilbo mumbled absentmindedly, still observing the map.

"And are you?" Gloin asked.

"Am I what?"

"He said he's an expert!" Oin crowed joyously.

"M-Me? No, no, no, no, no. I'm not a burglar; I've never stolen a thing in my life," Bilbo cried. Although, there was that one time back at Buckland in old Farmer Grubbs' crop...

"I'm afraid I have to agree with Mr. Baggins. He's hardly burglar material," Balin said. The hobbit nodded frantically in agreement.

"Aye, the wild is no place for gentlefolk who can neither fight nor fend for themselves," Dwalin agreed.

Bilbo continued nodding his agreement. The dwarves all contributed to the fact that Bilbo Baggins was much too soft for such a demanding task. Gandalf, however, had other ideas, and Kumama scooted away from him, knowing full well what happened when he was upset.

"Enough! If I say Bilbo Baggins is a burglar, then a burglar he is," Gandalf roared, the shadows around him seemed to grow and roar. A slight wind picked up from the sheer force until the wandering wizard finally settled.

"Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet. In fact, they can pass unseen by most if they choose. And while the dragon is accustomed to the smell of dwarf, the scent of hobbit is all but unknown to him, which gives us a distinct advantage," Gandalf explained. "You asked me to find the fourteenth member of this company, and I have chosen Mr. Baggins. There's a lot more to him than appearances suggest, and he's got a great deal more to offer than any of you know, including himself. You must trust me on this."

"Yes, that is all well, Gandalf," rumbled Dwalin. "But how can you guarantee Master Baggins' scent will remain unknown for long? How many times will the burglar have walk into the dragon's den until his scent becomes recognizable? Smaug is cleverer than that," Dwalin said, still unconvinced.

"Which is why I have chosen Kumama to assist Mr. Baggins in this task," Gandalf told him.

"Me?!"

"Kumama?"

"Her?!"

"Why Kumama? She will only endanger Mr. Baggins further! Most likely knock over a mace and give them away," Nori called.

Bifur grunted something in Khudzul, looking at Nori, then made several gestures. Kumama wasn't quite certain of whether or not she should be thankful towards Bifur or offended.

"Kumama will accompany Mr. Baggins after he has first entered the mountain. Her scent will all but completely throw off Smaug due to her-erm-" Gandalf hesitated, as though unsure of how he should say it without offending anyone.

"Mixed breeding?" Kumama suggested quietly. Several heads turned to look at her. She didn't look up and stared at her hands as though suddenly interested in them

"Er-yes. The multiple scents all contained in one will confuse Smaug, therefore providing Mr. Baggins enough time to burgle his way through the corridors as many times as needed," Gandalf finished. He turned to look at Thorin, daring him to object. However, Thorin met his gaze evenly.

"Very well. We will do it your way," Thorin said.

"No, no, no," Bilbo protested.

"Give him the contract," Thorin growled, ignoring the burglar's objections.

"Please," said the hobbit.

"Alright, we're off!" Bofur said cheerfully.

Balin handed the hobbit a rather long contract. "It's just the usual summary of out-of-pocket expenses, time required, remuneration, funeral arrangements, so forth."

"Funeral arrangements?" Bilbo looked at Balin, then skimmed over the contract.

"I cannot guarantee his safety," Thorin murmured, leaning over to Gandalf.

"Understood," Gandalf murmured. Kumama wasn't exactly keen to eavesdrop like she once had. Instead she kept her head down. _Gandalf promised me my first adventure_, she thought, _and my task is to be a scent diversion? I suppose that's not too bad, but I was hoping for something a bit more...noble. _Bilbo's reading the contract eventually caught her attention.

"Terms: Cash on delivery, up to but not exceeding one fourteenth of total profit, if any. Seems fair. Eh, Present company shall not be liable for injuries inflicted by or sustained as a consequence thereof including but not limited to lacerations ... evisceration … incineration?" Bilbo blinked nervously.

"Oh, aye, he'll melt the flesh off your bones in the blink of an eye," Bofur confirmed. The hobbit stared at him, then shifted from foot to foot.

"Huh," he squeaked, staring at the floor anxiously.

"You all right, laddie?" Balin asked.

"Uh, yeah...Feel a bit faint." The hobbit leaned over, hands on his knees breathing deeply. "I-I need air."

"Think furnace with wings."

Kumama looked up at the hobbit.

"Flash of light, searing pain, then Poof! you're nothing more than a pile of ash," Bofur continued. She looked at him, almost rolling her eyes.

"Hmmm...Nope." With that, the hobbit collapsed in a dead faint. Kumama stood quickly, staring in shock.

"Ah, very helpful, Bofur," Gandalf said sagely.

Whilst the hobbit recovered in the living room with Dori heating up a pot of herbal tea, Kumama sat in the hallway, hands supporting her head. She stared at the floorboards.

"Ye alright, lass?" Kumama looked up and saw the smiling face of Bofur, whom was still slightly blurred. She sighed miserably. _I can't even see him, clearly_, she thought.

"Oh-um-yes! Well, sort of-but don't mind me, I-oh. I'm alright, Bofur," she finally said, smiling. He sat down next to her.

"Come on now," he said. "I know Bombur's children, adorable, wee little things they are, and they do the same thing you do when something is bothering them. You can tell me, I won't judge."

Kumama sighed. "I…I suppose its just the fact that...well...Gandalf brought me, telling me that I would have a chance to find out a little more about who I really am. I've always wanted to go on a quest, but I was always denied even a journey to Staddle. _Staddle_, Bofur, that's hardly a few feet from my forge," she moaned.

"Why is that?" Bofur asked.

Kumama sighed and stood, putting her hand on the side table. She lost her balance, attempted to regain it, almost succeeded, but fell. A vase would have shattered if Bofur hadn't caught it.

"I'm accident prone," she mumbled. Bofur chuckled.

"It's not that bad. Bifur used to be much worse," he said, smiling.

"Really?"

"Oh, sure. Always knocking something over every time an adult came 'round. Used to scare the Khudzel right out of him." Bofur helped Kumama to her feet, both laughing.

"Thank you, Bofur," she said, smiling.

"My pleasure," he replied. He had planned to ask her a little more when Bilbo stormed past them.

Bofur stood and went to follow him, leaving Kumama standing in the hallway, watching him. She suddenly heard footsteps and hid behind the chest she had been sitting on.

"It appears we have lost our burglar." Kumama recognized Balin's voice. "Probably for the best. The odds were always against us. After all, what are we? Merchants, miners, tinkers, toy-makers; hardly the stuff of legend."

"There are a few warriors amongst us," Thorin supplied.

"Old warriors."

"I will take each and every one of these dwarves over an army from the Iron Hills. For when I called upon them, they came. Loyalty. Honor. A willing heart. I can ask no more than that." Kumama felt odd hiding there and eavesdropping like a child. It wasn't that she was eavesdropping on purpose. She couldn't help but overhear, what with her keen hearing. For a moment she considered slipping away when Balin spoke.

"And what of Kumama?" She froze at Balin's question.

Thorin sighed. "We have no choice in the matter. What will I do, Balin?"

"Kumama is of age, Thorin, she can take care of herself. She's not a child anymore," Balin rasped.

"This I know, Balin, and yet I still see the young babe left on my doorstep. I still see her tears when I left her in the care of the local smith. We don't even know how old she was or whose she was or even what she was, she could hardly see for Mahal's sake. I just want her to be safe. This journey will not allow her that." Kumama held her breath. Thorin had hardly ever approached her in the Blue Mountains. He observed her from afar until Farin, cousin of Frerin, left to find work amongst Men in Bree, taking Kumama with him.

"You don't have to do this. You have a choice. You've done honorably by our people and Kumama. She has grown into a beautiful young lass living a happy life in Bree. You have built a new life for us in the Blue Mountains, a life of peace and plenty. A life that is worth more than all the gold in Erebor," Balin said, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"From my grandfather to my father, this has come to me. They dreamt of the day when the dwarves of Erebor would reclaim their homeland. There is no choice, Balin. Not for me."

"Then we are with you, laddie. We will see it done," Balin vowed. After a few moments the two departed.

Kumama allowed her aching legs to stretch and sighed. _Thorin was right, I can't even decide who I am let alone take care of myself_, she thought miserably. Couldn't even get as far as the gates to Bree before she had to ask for directions to Buckland.

Kumama stood and entered the sitting room, where the rest of the company stood, humming. She sat on an empty chair, forgetting for the moment that the hobbit would not appreciate her sitting in his Grandpa Mungo's antique chair that was "not for sitting".

Thorin stared into the fireplace pensively, lowering his pipe. His soft baritone filled the night air.

"Far over the misty mountains cold.

To dungeons deep, and caverns old.

We must away, ere break of day

To find our long forgotten gold."

Slowly, one by one, the dwarves joined in the song:

"The pines were roaring on the height

The winds were moaning in the night."

Kumama glanced out the window and watched the smoke curl up from the chimneys of hobbits' smials, imagining the fires raging around Erebor.

"The fire was red, it flaming spread

The trees like torches, blazed with light."

**Notes: Sudulthurkh: dangerous road.**

**Du Bekâr: to arms**

**Shazara: silence**


	3. Chapter 3

**I meant to get this updated yesterday, but between going to see Monsters University and other crazy family stuff I didn't get to XD My apologies. I'm trying to make the chapters longer because I feel like they aren't as long as they should be. In any case, enjoy and thank you for being awesome, Kumama :D**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hobbit. In a perfect (and very chaotic) universe I would and there would be more Middle Earth installments. But then I would probably ruin it, so it's a good thing I don't X3. Again, I don't even own Kumama. **

Chapter 3

_She reached out to the voices of those who strayed close and pleaded for help._

_"Kumama? Kumama! What are you doing up there?!" Thorin Oakenshield glared up at the small lass. She looked down as though just realizing what it was she was doing then her eyes widened._

_"Wha you doin down dere?" She asked curiously._

_"The question is, what are you doing up there? Come down," Thorin called. _

_"Can't," she answered, tears coming to her eyes. "Smiffy? Smiffy!" _

_The small creature clung the trunk, staring tearfully down at the large dwarf below._

_"What? Kumama, I'm coming for you, hold on one moment," he called. For a moment the prince assessed the oak looming before him, then reached up for the first branch and pulled himself up._

_"Where Smiffy," Kumama asked. _

_"Smithy, as you're so keen to call him, is busy," Thorin gritted his teeth. She felt a large calloused hand wrap around her waist and lift her down. The brunette clung to Thorin until he was able to set her down. "There now," he breathed, looking quite relieved to be out of the tree._

_She was about to wander off when he grabbed her small wrist._

_"Oh no you don't, what were you thinking? Climbing a tree," he grumbled. Thorin had thought she might be a hobbit like from the stories he had heard. Now he wasn't so sure. "What are you, an elf?"_

_"Let me go," she wailed, pulling. However she was much too small. "Smiffy! Smiffy!"_

"Smiffy...smiffy..."

"Kumama? Wake up, lass, time to get going."

"Smiffy..."

"What? Come on, lass, get up."

Kumama opened her eyes tiredly, then looked around quickly. "What? Huh?"

The sun hadn't quite risen yet, leaving only the faint rays of sunlight peaking over the mountains in the distance to light anything. It was slightly cold and she shivered, wondering vaguely where her blanket was when it suddenly hit her.

_Oh no, I fell asleep!_ "Oh-I-um-I'm so sorry," she exclaimed, looking up at Bofur. He chuckled at her reaction.

"Sh, lass. It's fine. We need to get going now," he said, picking up his pack and pulling it on.

"Oh, okay," she said. Kumama stood up and winced. She had fallen asleep on Grandpa Mungo's armchair. Clearly Grandpa Mungo had back problems because she was stiff as a stick and there was an awful crick in her neck.

Then she followed Bofur to the exit and picked up her pack. Out of the corner of her eye she spied a long roll of parchment in the hobbit's study. "What's that doing there?" she wondered.

"Ori felt bad about the burglar not coming. Insisted that we leave it just in case," Bofur explained, opening the round green porthole door. "After you, lassie."

"O-oh, thank you," she blushed. Kumama strode out the door, almost tripped over her own feet, caught herself, and straightened, blushing furiously.

"You alright?" he asked.

"Huh?-oh, yeah, just fine," Kumama said, then looked ahead. In front of the hobbit's lawn on the path was a long train of ponies with a horse being the odd one out. The grassy areas surrounding had mostly been trodden and eaten.

"I noticed ye didn't bring a pony, so I took the liberty of going to get one for you. He's the only one I could find that was for sale around here, but I'm sure he'll do just fine," Bofur explained, indicating to a bay pony with a thick, wavy black mane.

"That's-I mean, bought-oh, thank you," she finally stated, smiling wildly.

Bofur helped her climb on. "Have you ever ridden?"

"Um..." Now that she thought about it..."no. I once rode a ram, but that was an accident." Bofur chuckled.

"It's not too difficult. Just touch his sides with your heels to get started and use the reins to steer. Be careful, though, this one's a wee bit-"

Kumama touched his sides with her heels and the pony flew, sending the rest of the ponies scattering across the path, whinnying.

"-spirited..."

"How do you stop him?!" she shouted. "Slow down! Stop, please!"

"Woah, Bayard! Woah!" called Bofur in as gentle a tone he could manage, walking quickly towards the pony.

"Is that his name?! Bayard!" she asked.

"Yes, try to calm him! Don't shout or ye'll spook him," Bofur advised.

Kumama held desperately to the saddle, trying to steer him away from other hobbit's holes. She finally managed to get a firm grasp on the reins, squinting to try and see what was ahead, and pulled back. Bayard stopped suddenly, reared up, and sent her onto the ground, knocking the wind out of her.

A dark figure hurried towards her then ran past and snatched the reins of the pony, shushing and pulling it down. He then turned to look down at Kumama. Though her vision was a bit hazy she could still make out the scowl.

"Of course, only you could send a pony into a sprint simply by touching it," they grumbled. It was Thorin.

"Thorin, it wasn't her fault. Bayard's just a spirited pony, that's all," replied Bofur, panting a bit as he caught up. The rest of the company could be heard approaching and a few hobbits were peaking out of their smials to see what the commotion was all about.

Thorin said nothing then handed the reins, from what Kumama could make out, to Bofur. He then turned and swung up onto his pony, Minty.

"Let's go then," he rumbled, then lead the chestnut stallion into a walk.

"Don't mind him, he's probably just grumpy cause it's early," Bofur joked, helping Kumama to her feet. "Have another go. I find that the best way to learn is get back up and try, try again."

Kumama got back onto Bayard, trying not to look at anyone, and gave him a softer nudge. This time the pony went into a fast-paced, bouncy walk, which didn't quite feel too pleasant on her already pained back.

The wizard's apprentice's flight had gotten her more than halfway out of Hobbiton. Throughout the ride the members of Thorin's company made bets upon whether or not Bilbo would come. The whole thing was started by Ori, who was scolded by Dori, telling him he wasn't old enough to bet. Of course, Nori thought differently. It wasn't until halfway to Buckland that the sun had risen, and the company had settled, that a certain hobbit had caught up with the company.

"I've signed it!" Bilbo panted, waving his contract high over his head, grinning like a child who had gotten an extra sweet. "Here it is."

Balin took the parchment, blue eyes twinkling as he observed it through a small looking glass.

"Welcome to the company, Mr. Baggins," Balin smiled. Thorin turned to stare at the hobbit for a moment.

"Get him a pony," he said finally.

"No, no, no, no, that-that won't be necessary, thank you, but I-I'm sure I can keep up on foot. I-I-I've done my fair share of walking holidays, you know. I even got as far as Frogmorton once-WAGH!"

Kumama held back laughter as Fili and Kili lifted the hobbit onto a smaller pack pony called Myrtle. She, like Bayard, had a bit more energy and was more of an additional luggage equine than a riding pony, but with a bit of rope and a bridle she made an excellent riding pony for the burglar.

Kumama fell back a few paces as Gandalf slowed to walk beside the company's newest addition. She patted Bayard gently; thankful that he had finally decided this was not a race. _It really is quite pleasant once your stomach isn't cramping up from all the bouncy trotting_. Closing her eyes she took a deep breath.

The Shire air was fresh and crisp, not at all dusty and hot like Smithy's forge in Bree. Everything was lush green and bustled with life. There was a sort of bright, chipper atmosphere as though the occupants of the land were quite pleased with their homeland and perfectly content to remain. No wonder Bilbo had been so insistent upon staying. It was all so quiet and peaceful...

"Hey, Nori! Pay up!" Oin shouted. Nori tossed a small pouch of coins, about three silvers to be exact. Following this the rest of the company seemed to decide that perhaps it was time to reward the winners of the wagers and soon pouches were tossed and caught.

Kumama sighed. _So much for quiet and peaceful_. After several moments, from up ahead, the hobbit suddenly stopped. "Stop! Stop, everyone stop!" he called.

"What is it now," someone mumbled from behind.

"I have left my handkerchief, we'll have to go back and get it," he declared. _Go back? Oh no_, Kumama thought. She did not want a repeat of the day previous.

"Here, use this," called Bofur. There was a loud rip and the brunette looked up in time to see him toss a piece of cloth to their burglar, who caught it and held it up as though not sure what to do with it. The rest of the company chuckled and Kumana relaxed, smiling at Bofur thankfully. He winked and grinned widely as she blushed and the company continued onward.

Hours later the company, aching and sweaty from the long ride, finally settled for a small alcove overlooking the band of pines surrounding Bree. They had trekked through the rest of Buckland then struggled through the humid Marish, where the short trees grew too close together and forced them to walk their ponies through in single file.

The dwarves had been stubborn and walked until Bofur and Dori suggested a rest for the less hardy members, being Bilbo, Ori, and Kumama. Kili also looked a bit peaked, but he would never admit it.

Bifur started a fire, then sat back as his brother, Bombur, set up a spit and set their cooking pot on it. Dori and Oin assisted in the cooking whilst the younger members of the company began unloading the ponies. As for the elders they all sat down for a rest, having already set out their bedrolls.

Later that evening, with tummies full of Bombur's piping hot stew, the company settled down for the night. Fili was lightly dozing next to Kili, who was staring absentmindedly into the fire. Oin and Gloin, too, had decided to turn in for the night. Bombur snored, taking in moths with and exhaled, releasing the critters from his hold. Bilbo was still getting himself acquainted with Myrtle, whom he decided after she nudged him to his feet after tripping over a large oak root, that ponies couldn't have been so bad after all. Kumama herself laid down to look up at the stars for a while.

She had always enjoyed observing the little pinpricks dotting against the inky darkness of the night sky. Shades of blue faded into the horizon and the strong green pines stretched upwards as though attempting to scrape their bristly tops against the sky. The meditative, sleepy silence allowed her mind to wander beyond the dark forests of Bree, beyond the Misty Mountains cold, past the dangers of the Wild, and through the desolation of Smaug to that isolated peak that was once home to the dwarves of Durin. Through the now musty and unkempt corridors, most collapsed in the dragon's rampage, lay the great red and gold beast himself. He was everything the stories foretold; terrible, horrible, and breathtaking all at once. The serpent was encased in scales of deepest scarlet and golden horns adorning his head like a crown. He lay in a deep slumber upon the mounds of gold, sparkling goblets, and shimmering mithril.

Kumama stared at the beast until he cracked open one, poisonous yellow eye. It flitted to her direction and a bit of steam issued from his nostrils lazily. Then, very slowly, he lifted his head, gold dropping from his neck and head like a waterfall and tinkling as they collided with the rest of the hoard. His mouth twisted into a very awful grin, for dragons cannot smile as other beings do. To see one attempt just made Kumama feel a bit sick.

"I must be dreaming," he rumbled, "for the faintest trace of many races has found its way into my cave. Someone is here, and then again," he added delightfully, "someone is, instead, Looking at me from afar. I await you, strange creatures. Are you dwarves, whom I once chased out of this land and seek to overthrow my reign? Or perhaps the fair Elven ones of Mirkwood, searching for rubies and my precious sapphires? Perhaps, even, the Men of the Laketown? Thieves! Or perhaps something I do not know of, searching for the untold riches of the lost Erebor? I await you, whether you be one or many, I wait." With that, the dragon laid down its massive head, chuckling in its throat, and let out a great gust of smoke.

A load screech filled the night air and Kumama sat up quickly, opening her eyes. _Have-have I been asleep? I couldn't have been, I don't feel as though I was and everything was so much clearer and vivid. But...maybe I was?_

"What was that?" She looked up at the burglar, who tiptoed cautiously back to camp, looking quite anxious.

"Orcs," Kili replied.

Out of the corner of her eye, Kumama spotted movement from where Dwalin, Balin, and Thorin had set out their bedrolls.

"Orcs?" Bilbo squeaked.

"Throat-cutters. There'll be dozens of them out there. The lowlands are crawling with them," Fili answered, voice slightly hoarse.

"They strike in the wee small hours, when everyone's asleep. Quick and quiet; no screams, just lots of blood," Kili added, eyes wide.

Kumama unconsciously rubbed her throat whilst Bilbo, at that's same moment, looked away from the pair horrified and disgusted. The two brothers suddenly nudged one another and began laughing.

"You think that's funny? You think a night raid by orcs is a joke?" Kumama looked up suddenly as a voice, rumbling like thunder, interrupted the brothers.

"We didn't mean anything by it," Kili mumbled. Thorin glared at his sister-sons.

"No, you didn't. You know nothing of the world," he snapped, then stormed off, looking over the valley with a great intensity as though he could start a wildfire merely by staring at it hard enough.

"Don't mind him, laddie. Thorin has more cause than most to hate orcs," Balin said to Kili, nodding after Thorin.

"What happened?" Bilbo asked.

"After the dragon took the Lonely Mountain, King Thror tried to reclaim the ancient dwarf kingdom of Moria. But our enemy had got there first."

The kind blue eyes grew distant with the memories of the Battle of Azanulbizar. Kumama listened with interest. It was not a story anyone had told her nor thought to because she had come to Thorin long after that.

"Moria had been taken by legions of Orcs lead by the most vile of all their race: Azog, the Defiler. The giant Gundabad Orc had sworn to wipe out the line of Durin. He began by beheading the King." Bilbo winced at this, eyes wide as cram.

"Thrain, Thorin's father, was driven mad by grief. He went missing, taken prisoner or killed, we did not know. We were leaderless. Defeat and death were upon us."

"That is when I saw him; a young dwarf prince facing down the Pale Orc," Balin murmured, a faint smile. "He stood alone against this terrible foe, his armor rent…wielding nothing but an oaken branch as a shield"

"Azog, the Defiler, learned that day that the line of Durin would not be so easily broken."

"Our forces rallied and drove the orcs back. Our enemy had been defeated. But there was no feast, no song, that night, for our dead were beyond the count of grief. We few had survived."

Kumama swallowed, realizing that her mouth was slightly open and her throat dried by the gentle night breeze. She licked her dry cracked lips, wincing at the slight sting. Stretching a bit she saw that most of the company had awoken and focused their attention on their leader, standing tall in the moonlight.

"And I thought to myself then, there is one who I could follow. There is one I could call King."

"But the pale orc? What happened to him?" Bilbo asked, leaning in slightly.

"He slunk back into the hole whence he came. That filth died of his wounds long ago." Bilbo jumped slightly when the heir of Durin strode into the clearing, eyes dark with the memories. He spoke with the husky tones of a warrior, beaten and well weathered from experience.

Frowning up at him, she turned her attentions to the flames, imagining that the bright white center was the pale orc himself, battle scarred and hunger glinting in his eyes. The desperate hunger for revenge. She shuddered and looked away, wondering why her imagination was being so cruel to her that night. Dragons and orcs and-

"Oh my," she sighed, lying down and rubbing her head. It would be a long time until sleep finally took her in its embrace.

The next day didn't do anything to lift Kumama's spirits, not did it the rest of the company. Droplets pattered from the sky and woke the slumbering dwarves, hobbit, wizard, and his "apprentice". By Bilbo's definition of "second breakfast", everyone was soaked to the bone.

"Here, Mr. Gandalf, can't you do something about this deluge?" Dori shouted over the sound of raindrops smacking the earth.

"It is raining, Master Dwarf, and it will continue to rain until the rain is done. If you wish to change the weather of the world, you should find yourself another wizard," Gandalf replied.

"Are there any?" Bilbo asked.

"What?" Gandalf called.

"Other wizards?" Bilbo said louder.

"There are five of us. The greatest of our order is Saruman, the White. Then there are the two Blue Wizards; you know, I've quite forgotten their names," Gandalf answered.

"O-oh them? Alatar and Polando?" Kumama offered. Gandalf turned in his saddle to look back at her.

"Why, yes," he rumbled. "How did you know?"

Kumama stared at him for a moment. "I...I don't know. I think I had a dream about them when I was little."

"Really? Hm," Gandalf murmured.

"What about them?" Bilbo asked.

"Oh, no one knows, really," Gandalf replied. "They reside far off to the east."

"And who is the fifth?"

"Well, that would be Radagast, the Brown."

"Is he a great Wizard or is he..." Bilbo hesitated, "more like you?"

Gandalf stared at Bilbo, looking somewhat miffed. "I think he's a very great wizard, in his own way. He's a gentle soul who prefers the company of animals to others. He keeps a watchful eye over the vast forest lands to the East, and a good thing too, for always Evil will look to find a foothold in this world."

**Those really are the real names of the two wizards, honest! Now that that is covered, who is this mysterious "Smithy"? Why does Kumama know and **_**See**_** (****) so much? Am I giving you a hint? Why am I asking you all these questions? I hope you have enjoyed the story thus far. Thank you so much for reading! If there are any grammar errors (which I'm sure there are many), miss spelled names, or incorrect Tolkienology type things (if that's even a word) please don't hesitate to inform me.**


	4. Chapter 4

**My apologies, I have been taking a wonderful break to spend time with one of my cousins (so much fun!) It's fairly early and she's still sleeping, so I think I'll get this up before she wakes up and preforms one of her famous morning songs (she's actually got a good voice, so it's fun). In any case I have edited chapter one and will probably do the same for chapter two and possibly three. Hopefully it will make the story more interesting and I added a little rant of sorts down below about mixed breeding (though it's more of an informative excerpt than a rant). Again, thank you for all the wonderful support, I welcome constructive criticism, no flames (let's be nice, here), and as far as the story goes let me know if you like it. I really do enjoy receiving reviews as most authors and I carefully read through each to see what it is you like. Also, I'd like your opinion. Here is the big question:**

**Are the chapters too short?**

**I'm thinking about just taking a few days to write big, long chapters instead of daily. That way I can do more research and get more ideas out. In any case, enjoy and a special shout out to the real Kumama-oh! And a quick note here. Kumama made some lovely doodles for Life String! They're fantastic and I hope you go and check those out.**

**Lovest Always, Lady Merridell**

**Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own The Hobbit or Kumama. Just a few ideas related to her (like Smithy and one little leaf :/)**

**Chapter 4**

_The Valor, seeing the young dwarf's struggles, had compassion on her and held a council._

Having trekked to the edge of Bree the dwarves decided against staying at the Prancing Pony.

"We'll have to keep going," Thorin declared. There were several groans, which were silenced by a pair of piercing stormy eyes. The members clambered onto their ponies, some grudgingly but all would faithfully follow their leader to the ends of Middle Earth and back.

"We don't have to stay at an inn, but maybe we could rest elsewhere? At least we'll have a roof over our heads," Kumama suggested. All eyes turned to her and she suddenly became quite interested in the saddle horn.

"Where?" Thorin asked.

"Sounds good, long as there's food and ale," called Bofur.

"And somewhere dry," added Dori.

"What?! What did she say?" called Oin, turning his ear trumpet so that water dumped onto the ground, causing his pony to shift nervously.

"Oh-um." She squirmed a bit under all the attention. "It's-ah, its a ways from here. Thorin, do you remember Smithy?"

"Who's Smithy?" Bilbo asked.

"Thorin Oakenshield," exclaimed a rather surprised dwarf.

"Oadinn Smitheen," Thorin greeted with a nod.

Bilbo, however, didn't think he could muster the courage to utter any form of greeting. There stood a dwarf almost as tall as Thorin, though not quite. He had tough, well-weathered skin and his cheeks flushed red from the intense heat emanating from the smithing forge behind him. Sweat mingling with the dirt smudging his face and trailing into his beard, which was tied with braids trailing down the sides of his head. The rest of his hair was a wild mass of an untamed chestnut wilderness with the occasional few braids there that had been tied off with beads.

Usually he had his hair tied back so he could work in the forge, but now it framed his worn features. His eyes were rather small and watery blue while his nose was slightly crooked as though broken in some sort of accident.

Though his was, in truth, a rather imposing and intimidating creature with that iron tooth of his and several battle wounds healed to scars were scattered along his arms and face, there was a sort of timid kindness about him as though he wouldn't dare harm even a fly.

"Kumama, have you changed your mind already?" he attempted a little joke to ease the slight tension. Not that any of the dwarves disliked their old smithing companion. It was just that-

"Oh-oh, no," Kumama finally said, smiling. "I just thought that maybe it would... could we possibly stay here for a night?"

Smithy smiled. "Of course. But ye'll need to excuse me. I don't-ye know-have any extra beds. Thorin can use mine and perhaps any of the elder dwarves-ah, Balin?-could borrow Kumama's? I've plenty of blankets and there's still plenty to eat from last winter's storage," he offered.

The company, of course, didn't mind this in the least. Food and shelter was all that they really wanted. They entered the smith's cottage, which was located a safe distance from Bree and was found in a large field of tall grasses with a few trees dotting the horizon. Next to it was an outdoor forge where various tongs and scrap metal lined the sides and hung on the wall.

Smithy continually apologized, for the size of the cottage was quite suitable for such a large party. Once upon a spring he built it for himself and little Kumama with two rooms for each of them, a chamber pot, a sitting room with a stone fireplace, and a kitchen.

He bustled about in the kitchen with Kumama, who would occasionally bump something that would be caught easily by the smith as though he were quite accustomed to her habits. Soon there was a generous spread of honey, biscuits, corn, mutton, salted pork, apples, baked potato, and fresh water.

The group feasted, laughed, joked, and even sang a bit. Bofur played his pipe in a lively rendition of "That's What Bilbo Baggins Hates".

Kumama braved a conversation with Dori, who was a bit hesitant, but they managed to exchange a civil conversation about herbs. Dori had shown an interest in the art of healing and hoped to learn a trick or two from Oin. Other than that, she mostly chatted with Bilbo and Ori.

"Thank you," Ori said politely as she passed the corn.

"You are very welcome," she told him, smiling. &&&

Thorin even pulled out his harp for a few ballads about dwarven heroes, both male and female, which surprised Bilbo immensely. He soon learned that dwarrow held very different views on females. Dwarves sent them into battle, most likely not knowing there was a female in their midst or, if they knew, did not care because they were just as stubborn and hardy as the males.

By the end of the festivities everyone had calmed down and Bilbo had fallen fast asleep.

Smithy passed out woolen blankets and even a few patchwork quilts that looked as though they had been made rather clumsily, but were cherished nonetheless. The hobbit was carried into the room near the fireplace and most used chose to use their packs as pillows. Only one other member was missing besides Thorin and was, instead, speaking in somber tones with Smithy in the kitchen. It was Gandalf.

As Kumama lay there, doing her utmost best to ignore the whispering from the kitchen she focused on the comforting snores of the rest of the company. Not that it was soothing in the least, but at least she did not have to eavesdrop.

Most would find this useful, but in the hands of a child it could be quite scary. In her youth, Kumama often heard everything anyone said within a hundred or so yards from her. She heard things she did want to hear and things she didn't, the majority of it being things that upset her. The elder dwarves might watch her run by and mumble about her clumsiness or, one time after shattering a vase, overheard an argument between Thorin and Smithy.

_"She just needs time to get used to herself,"Smithy whispered insistently. "Many children are a bit off balance at first."_

_"I am sorry, Smithy, but she can not stay. She'll be safer among the elves," Thorin rumbled._

_Smithy scoffed. "Since when have you put your faith in the dwarves?"_

_"I don't," the king answered flatly. "Kumama is a danger to us all. Better the elves than us."_

_"It was only a vase," Smithy continued._

_"And a row of axes and another vase and even a lantern. She almost burned down the medical hall," Thorin continued. _

_"Kumama just doesn't know her own strength yet," the smith said._

"_Then she'd best figure it out," the king replied. Oadinn did not hesitate. It was not wise to stand up to one so powerful and full of authority amongst his own race, but he only straightened up._

"_Thorin, please, I ask of you to give her a chance," he asked._

"_I have given her plenty of chances."_

"_Try to see through her eyes!"_

"_I would if she _could_ see," Thorin retorted, then he sighed. "Oadinn, its not that I don't care for Kumama. I am worried for her. She is too dangerous. For us and herself."_

_"She is a child!"_

_"For Mahal's sake, we don't even know what she is," Thorin growled. _

_"She is a child, regardless of whether she is Elven or not," Smithy replied._

_"An elleth has no place among dwarves, neither do hobbits if that's what she is," Thorin said. _

Kumama turned over under her blankets, feeling tears well up at the memory. That night she had run away, as anyone would expect a small child to do. It was Balin who found her hiding in the craw of a snowy pine, damp and shivering. Not long afterwards they left for Bree. It was as good as exile, for Thorin had suggested that, for the safety of the dwarves of Durin, it was best that she left.

It shouldn't have bothered her for so long. After all, it had been so long ago, but it still stung like a fresh cut. She had often asked Smithy whether or not he would love her less if she were an elleth or a hobbit. Each time he smiled, knelt down and pulled her into a tight bear hug repeating each time that he loved her no matter what she was. Perhaps, someday, she would learn who she was, what she was exactly, and maybe, just maybe, someone could love her no matter what she was.

The next day the company woke up about the crack of dawn and ate a generous helping of bread and butter, fried tomatoes, bacon, and eggs.

Kumama found herself wandering around her home, just to say goodbye to it one more time before she embarked on her very first quest. Or, if she counted the journey to Bree, her second quest.

_"Think of it as a quest, Kumama," Smithy suggested, smiling down at the little wide-eyed Elven creature._

_"We're going on a quest!" she exclaimed gleefully. Smithy chuckled and ruffled her hair affectionately before tapping their old mule, Dusk, with the riding crop._

Kumama smiled absentmindedly when a familiar set of footfall stopped at her door. Turning slightly she glanced at the blurred form of Smithy, his recognizably ruffled tresses tied back and beard slightly burnt at the tips as though he had recently been in the forge. His hands were clasped behind his back and he seemed to be going through some sort of internal struggle.

"Yes? Are you okay?" she asked, beaming at him. Suddenly a few tears sprung to his eyes and he stared quickly at the floor. Kumama frowned, concerned. "Smithy?"

"Please don't go," he whispered. Kumama's eyes widened and she stepped back.

"What?"

"Do ye have to go?" he asked. She hesitated, not quite certain of what to say, so instead she hugged him tightly as he had always done for her.

"Gandalf promised me an adventure and the chance to discover who I really am deep down. I can't do that in Bree," she told him apologetically.

"Yes ye could," Smithy sniffed, then he wiped his eyes and shook his head suddenly, as though changing his mind. "No, I don't suppose ye could, could ye?"

Kumama, unable to think of anything else to say simply shook her head.

"At least take this. I can't be sure how much good it'll do ye, but maybe it could help 'discover who ye are' and whatnot," the dwarf explained, pressing into the palm of her hand an piece of silver crafted in the fashion of what could be a leaf, looped through with string. Squinting, she managed to make out several odd markings like some form of writing. One word stood out large on the pendant while the rest were _much_ smaller and had been etched underneath the word.

"What does it say?" she asked.

"I don't know. Some sort of ancient language. Elvish, maybe, but there's only one word on here that makes sense-the big one. Kumama," he explained. "We assumed it was your name, y'see. It was holding together the blankets you were wrapped up in. Thought ye were an elf till we saw the feet. 'Course, ye proved to be right hardy like a dwarf, but ye looked nothin like one. More like a hobbit or-"

His speech was cut off suddenly as Kumama hugged him. "Thank you so much!" she cried. Smithy smiled and held her tightly. She stepped back quickly. "Why don't you come? I'm sure Thorin wouldn't mind!"

"Someone has to mind the forge," he told her, chuckling.

"Oh-right," sighed Kumama.

"Now then, hurry along," Smithy said affectionately. Soon enough he was waving from the door. "I want ye there and back again by supper, ye hear?!"

"Oh-okay," she called, laughing at the little joke they shared. Nothing many would understand. In fact, they didn't quite understand it themselves. Just something they often said. "There and back again! I promise! Bye, Smithy."

He waved from the entrance of the solitary stone cottage. Kumama twisted around to wave one last time then sighed contentedly, enjoying the slight breeze.

"Why do you call him 'Smithy'?"

Kumama practically fell out of her saddle and clung to Bayard's mane, then pulled herself up.

"Goodness gracious, I do apologize," exclaimed Bilbo.

"Oh no-it's okay, don't feel bad," Kumama stammered, having righted herself. "I was a bit distracted. What did you say?"

"I was simply inquiring," Bilbo repeated, "as to why you call your father Smithy."

"Oh, um, he's not my father," Kumama explained, somewhat confused.

"Oh." Bilbo suddenly turned bright red. _Bilbo, you dundering fool_, he chided.

"It's okay. I call him 'Smithy' because when I was introduced to him I couldn't get his last name right. I suppose I spent too much time getting his name right so all I remembered about his name was Smithy," she explained.

"Ah, I see," he nodded. "I hope I did not offend you."

"Not at all," Kumama replied, though it did remind her that she did not know anything of her past. Who her father was wasn't exactly a question she often asked herself since she did not grow up around too many children who had fathers. In fact, she did not often meet other children since children among dwarves weren't quite common. It was only her and two other dwarf children whose names she failed to recall.

It was still rather damp, but at least it was all drying out a bit. The sky was now bright azure as though relieved to have released its burden. Large fluffy clouds hung suspended amid the blue sea and various fowl flitted about, twittering loud as they pleased.

All in all, it was rather pleasant. Bree would soon be far behind.

That night, Kumama lay on her side. Most of the company had fallen asleep, leaving only her and Bifur. She fingered the little silver leaf, turning it over it her hands several times, feeling the engraved words as though attempting to identify the language. No such luck there.

She sighed and closed her eyes. When she opened her eyes Kumama found herself face to face with what she found quite disturbing and extremely unbecoming.

It opened one of it's large, protruding eyes and looked around it's cave quickly. Large boils covered its chubby features and several stringy, greasy hairs still clung to its head. The creature resembled an overgrown hobgoblin. In fact, that had to be what it was. _An orc_, she thought, disgusted.

The orc was laid on a large rock slab and was surrounded by bits of mithril and moth-eaten silks that were most likely forged from the skeletons lining the room. He suddenly sat up and looked around the room, both eyes now wide open.

"Who's there?" he roared. Kumama back up against the wall and held her breath as though it would somehow make herself invisible.

"I'm here, My Liege," croaked a much smaller orc from the entry.

"No, not you. It smells like…" he sniffed again, "many different creatures. Elves-"

"Ooo, that's right tasty," declared the orc, eyes wide and hungry.

"-and the slightest trace of…dwarf?"

"Not so tasty," sighed the small orc, as though disappointed.

The orc hummed then stood up. "It's right over…" he sniffed around then froze. "Hold on, it's fading! It must be running away! Quickly, find it! Find-"

Kumama, not wanting to see anymore, suddenly opened her eyes and sat up quickly, panting. That cold not have been a dream, could it?!

There was a soft grunt from behind her. Kumama twisted around to look at the dark haired warrior. He attempted speech, but there was only one word she could understand: _achu´shum_. He was worried for her.

"I'm alright Bifur," she smiled. "

Bifur grunted something that sounded like "_ashafukh_" though she couldn't be sure. That night she dreamed of damp caves and getting lost in their winding labyrinths and there were no orcs to be found.

"We'll camp here for the night," Thorin announced. "Fili, Kili, look after the ponies. Make sure you stay with them."

Kumama lowered herself and wandered around the ruins of a cottage.

"A farmer and his family used to live here," murmured Gnadalf mournfully.

"Oin, Gloin."

"Aye?"

"Get a fire going," Thorin ordered.

Gloin nodded, "Right you are."

"I think it would be wiser to move on. We could make for the Hidden Valley," Gandalf said, turning to look down at the dwarf king.

"I have told you already, I will not go near that place," Thorin rasped, looking up at Gandalf with the same amount of authority.

"Why not? The elves could help us. We could get food, rest, advice."

"I do not need their advice," Thorin insisted, not looking too pleased at receiving "advice" from an elf.

"We have a map that we cannot read. Lord Elrond could help us," the wizard argued.

"Help? A dragon attacks Erebor, what help came from the Elves? Orcs plunder Moria, desecrate our sacred halls, the Elves looked on and did nothing." The dark haired king took a step closer, fire in his eyes. "You ask me to seek out the very people who betrayed my grandfather and betrayed my father."

"You are neither of them. I did not give you that map and key for you to hold on to the past," Gandalf snapped.

"I did not know that they were yours to keep," the dwarf replied. Huffing, Gandalf turned and stormed away, unable to contain his rage.

"Everything alright? Gandalf, where are you going?" Bilbo cried, watching the wizard.

"To seek the company of the only one around here who's got any sense."

"Who's that?"

"Myself, Mr. Baggins! I've had enough of dwarves for one day. Come along, Kumama."

Kumama jumped. "What? Come?"

"You are my apprentice, aren't you?"

She had all but forgotten. "Oh- yes, I am," she exclaimed suddenly.

"The come along and do what any sensible apprentice is supposed to do," he growled, then turned and continued on.

"And what is that?" she panted, finally catching up.

"Listen when you're mentor talks. I am about to teach you your first lesson. Dealing with the stubbornness of dwarves," he grumbled.

**Khudzul Translations: **

_**Ashafukh**_**- to doubt**

_**Achushum**_**-to worry**

**My apologies for the random little apostrophe above for the word **_**achushum. **_**Apparently accents don't like my mac :/**

**In any case I hope you have enjoyed the story thus far. As for those of you who have guessed as to why Kumama can "See" things from so far there have been some very good guesses (like, one or two). I suppose we shall see. Still more of the story to come! So much to tell, so much to the story, so much time to wait, and so little patience. I can't wait! **


	5. Chapter 5

**Greetings, fellow readers! I hope you have enjoyed the story thus far. I apologize for the delayed update. Nevertheless, it is here. Any constructive criticism is welcome, but remember that the word constructive means building up meaning to make my story better. Don't criticize for the sake of criticizing. Please have a purpose and don't flame me for it (as I'm sure no one enjoys getting scorched in their reviews). Please review and let me know what you like about the story so I'll know what bits you enjoy and would like to see more of as well as the bits you would prefer to avoid.**

**Lovest Always, Lady Merridell**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Literally, nothing (well, maybe Smithy, well... and Bayard-well… he sorta gone for now :/ )**

Chapter 5

_When Mahal heard of the suffering of the dwarf girl he agreed to send her a guide._

Kumama sat down and panted, feeling an inane amount of surprise at Gandalf's impressive amount of endurance...then again, his legs were much longer and he covered more ground than she in one step. The sun was setting and they stood high on a hill overlooking the valley. In the not-so-far-off distance smoke curled up in a thin path towards the sky from where the company had set up camp.

"Come now, don't slow down just yet. I wish to put as much a space between us and that stubborn lot as possible," Gandalf growled. Kumama forced her aching legs to stand and followed him at a slight jog. She coughed slightly to relieve her burning throat.

"How far are we going?"

"Far enough," Gandalf replied. "Seeing as you are my apprentice I suppose I ought to do some mentoring, shall I?"

"You said-" Kumama panted, "-you would teach me to...deal with...stubborn dwarves."

"And so I am. First, remove yourself from their presence. Second, don't look back," Gandalf began. "A wizard never looks-"

Suddenly there was a loud battle cry in the distance followed by a deep bellow that was quite foreign to Kumama. She winced as the sounds grated against her delicate ears and she clamped both hands over them, wincing.

"What was that?" she gasped. Gandalf frowned.

"It would seem that those are the sounds of stubborn dwarves, most likely wondering where their wizard is," he mused.

"I thought it sounded more like they were in trouble," Kumama wondered aloud.

"That too," he confirmed, turning to continue onward.

"Shouldn't we help them?" Kumama called.

"Indeed, we should," he nodded.

"But you're going the wrong way!"

"My dear Kumama, I said that we should, but that does not imply that we will. After all, there are more important things to deal with than dwarves," Gandalf chuckled.

"Like what?"

"My pride," he answered, flatly.

"Better your pride bruised than the skin of those dwarves," she replied. Gandalf turned sharply to look at her.

"My dear, your tongue is much sharper than you let on. I suppose you are right then. Come along, but do try to keep up," Gandalf answered. Kumama frowned in slight confusion. _That was rather easy._

Gandalf glanced back. "Oh, and Kumama?"

She looked up into his wizened features and at his clever blue eyes. "Yes, sir?"

"I never was going to leave those dwarves. It was taking far too long for you to finally speak up about it. Of whether or not we would go back, that is. I was beginning to worry. As the saying goes, one's true nature is revealed when the lives of others hang from a string. Or their own, I suppose."

Kumama stood stared after the retreating wizard. Everything and nothing he said made any sense. He said he was never really leaving the dwarves but...her eyes widened. Somehow, she wasn't sure how, but he tricked her. For what, though? To prove her loyalty?

Shaking her head, Kumama followed her mentor, feeling as though she had yet to learn anything.

Wincing as a branch scraped her cheek, Kumama lowered herself to a slight crouch behind Gandalf. She carefully put one foot in front of the other, trying to balance herself. Thankfully, for once, she was able to keep herself from tripping over her large feet or some unforeseen root and give away her position. It was difficult navigating herself through the underbrush since everything was blurred, but her ears picked up the slight rustling of the leaves from oncoming plants.

The two had swiftly made their way towards the camp and, finding that it was abandoned, followed the conveniently trampled path of branches and snapped twigs right to the clearing where Kumama and Gandalf had first heard the battle cries.

There, in a hollowed clearing, sat three large trolls. Kumama wrinkled her nose at the stench. They had tough, leathery pale skin with hooked noses squished flat to their faces, slightly enlarged ears, beefy arms and legs, and beady eyes. All three wore dirty rags fashioned like overalls and sat about a large fire. One slowly turned a spit on which several squirming forms were tied together. Nearby was a messily crafted corral, which was clear of any possible occupants. Several sacks lay wriggling to the side with many braided heads poking out, being the only part of their bodies allowed to be free through the synched opening. Only one of the sacks stood standing, apparently attempting to distract the trolls.

A nasty sort of feeling churned at the pit of her stomach when she spotted Bofur on the spit.

One of the great beasts lifted poor Bombur and held him high. The ginger dwarf kicked a bit, eyes wide with fear and face turning slightly red from being hung upside down.

"Not-not that one, he-he's infected!" The small voice of a hobbit, no doubt their burglar, called out in a panic.

"You what?" One of the trolls squinted at him in confusion.

"Yeah, He's got worms in his … tubes." The troll quickly released his hold on Bombur, looking quite disgusted. Kumama made a face at this. _Worms in his tubes? _

A staff poked at her side, causing her to jump and squeak a bit. Gandalf quickly shushed her with a silent icy glare.

"Wha' was that'?" asked one of the trolls in a rather high, squeaky voice.

Kumama shrunk into the shadows, hoping that their sight was somehow worse than hers.

"In-in fact," Bilbo interrupted, attempting to get the trolls' attention, "they all have, they're in-infested with parasites. It's a terrible business; I wouldn't risk it, I really wouldn't."

Kumama desperately wanted to ask Gandalf what the plan of action was, precisely, but as it turns out the trolls had a much better sense of hearing than she had counted on. Instead she followed the grey-robed wizard. The sky began to get a bit lighter in the east, little streaks of rose and gold dissipating the deep blues and dimming the surrounding stars.

Suddenly the dwarves could be heard loudly, as it seemed, protesting against the ideas Bilbo was implying about their health. She attempted to drown out the sound by placing both hands over her ears. _Why do all of them have to shout at once?_

"Parasites, did he say parasites?"

"We don't have parasites! You have parasites!"

"What are you talking about, laddie?"

Amid the chaos, Gandalf's rasp caught her attention. He waved a hand at her to come look. The two, wizard and apprentice, stood next to a large boulder that appeared to block the sun from the trolls.

"I will need your help for this," he whispered.

"My help?" she squeaked.

"I've got parasites as big as my arm!"

Oin declared.

"Yes, yours," he hissed. "Do not back down, Kumama Smitheen, for you will always be a Smitheen in my mind. It's about time you do some apprenticing, and now is as good a time as ever."

"Mine are the biggest parasites, I've got huge parasites!" Kili shouted.

"What can I do?!" Kumama exclaimed, only to be hushed by Gandalf. Thankfully Nori, Ori, and Dori, her outburst remained unnoticed.

"We're riddled."

"Yes, I'm riddled."

"Yes we are. Badly!"

"I would like you to say _'perya-cemna undu'_, but only when I tell you," Gandalf said.

"Does magic work like that?"

"Like what?"

"Saying a phrase and-" he shushed her as the dwarves quieted.

"What would you have us do, then, let 'em all go?" One of the trolls squinted.

"Well..." the burglar began slowly.

"You think I don't know what you're up to? This little ferret is taking us for fools!"

"Ferret?" Bilbo exclaimed indignantly.

"Fools?"

Gandalf stood quickly and leapt onto the boulder. "The dawn will take you all!" He glanced at Kumama and nodded.

"Who's that?"

"No idea."

"Can we eat 'im too?"

Gandalf gave her a slight nod before slamming down the staff.

_"Perya-cemna undu!"_ she shouted. Gasping in shock, Kumama felt a slight downwards tug, like metal drawn to a magnet. She quickly slammed her hands down forcefully, unable to stop them. The earth beneath her cracked in several places as all the energy was exerted into the earth.

At that precise moment there was a resounding crack as the boulder was split in half and rosy light filtered into the clearing, causing the three enormous trolls to writhe and squirm as they were turned to stone. Kumama stared at her hands in wonder and slight pain. They were red and burned from all the exertion, yet a new sort of energy pulsed through her being. What was that, she wondered. She felt as though she could run from Erebor to the far reaches of the Shire and back again, tireless.

"Gandalf? What did I just do?" she asked, eyes wide as she surveyed her work. Gandalf carefully navigated his way back to where she sat, legs folded back as though she had been kneeling at one point. He frowned ever so slightly as he observed the cracks, then knelt and brushed his fingertips over them.

"Does this make me a wizard? Or-or...a witch?" Kumama whispered. Her eyes widened at the thought, since many an elderly dwarf had told tales of witches living out in the forest, awaiting to attack and devour an unsuspecting child.

"I don't believe so," Gandalf murmured," however...it would seem that you channeled my magic."

"I what?"

"I could be wrong, of course," he murmured to himself, still solely focused on the web-like designs.

"What did I do?"

Gandalf hummed, then stood and left, leaving the hobbit-elf-dwarf?-something-or-other to stare after him in confusion.

By the time the sun had fully risen all the dwarves had been released from the sacks and cut down from the spit.

"Thank Mahal! I think I was actually beginning to brown," moaned Bofur, eliciting a bit of laughter from Kumama.

"Aye, you can say that again," sighed Dwalin, stretching his legs.

"Actually, now that you mention it, you do look a shade darker," Kumama said quietly to Bofur.

"You sure?" he asked loudly, glancing down at his arms. He pulled up the sleeves and peered at his skin. "Aye, now that you mention it, I do look a bit well done, now don't I?"

Kumama could only nod through the ensuing laughter.

"Oi, what are you laughing about? We almost got skinned alive," growled Gloin.

"No thanks to your burglar," Thorin nodded, glaring at Gandalf. Bilbo let out an indignant sort of squeak somewhere behind Kumama, as though about to say something but not quite forming words.

"He had the nous to play for time. None of the rest of you thought of that," Gandalf remarked. The company of dwarves shifted guiltily and a few of the more humble members nodded their thanks at Bilbo, who went quite red at this.

"Where did you go to, if I may ask?" Thorin's rumbling baritone broke the silence. This diffused the tension and the company returned to their tasks such as gathering the remains of their supplies and so forth, though a few looked curious as to what Gandalf had to say.

"To look ahead," Gandalf replied simply.

"What brought you back?"

Gandalf hesitated a bit as he glanced at Kumama."Looking back," he said. Kumama, once again, bust out laughing. The wizened mentor silenced his apprentice with a glare, then turned back to Thorin. "Nasty business." He turned to observe the now literally stone still trolls. "They must have come down from the Ettenmoors."

"Since when do mountain trolls venture this far south?" Thorin asked, glancing up at Gandalf questioningly.

"Oh, not for an age, not since a darker power ruled these lands," the wizard rumbled, sharing a brief and meaningful glance with the dwarven king. Kumama did not feel obligated to guess at what evil they spoke of. Instead she decided to attempt to engage in conversation, though she could not help to be curious about the mountain trolls.

"They could not have moved in daylight," Gandalf murmured, resting a hand on one of the statues.

Thorin thought a moment. "There must be a cave nearby."

Kumama's moment of concentration was interrupted by Bofur.

"What's so funny about lookin' back?" Bofur asked.

"'A wizard never looks back'," Kumama quoted solemnly. Bofur looked confused, which only made her laugh harder.

"Oh, what's that stench?!" Nori wrinkled his nose in disgust. Kumama gagged and kicked away the skull of some unfortunate creature. The smell was worse than a bloated decaying deer. The cave had, indeed, been nearby and was warm and musty. There was an unpleasant amount of dust, to which their burglar sneezed, as well as a wad of cobwebs layering the mounds of treasure.

"It's a troll hoard. Be careful what you touch," Gandalf warned. There was much retching and groans as the company continued onward. However the curiosity of the trolls' hoard drove them on.

"Seems a shame just to leave it lyin' around. Anyone could take it," Bofur said suggestively, casting a sweeping glance about at all the coins and jewels.

"Agreed," Gloin nodded. "Nori, get a shovel.

Kumama, holding one hand over her mouth and nose, looked around at the collection hidden by the webbing and dust. A glint caught her eye and she wandered over to a corner of the cave where, tucked away under a layer of dirt, was the glint of a hilt.

Reaching out and taking hold of the glimmering hilt, she pulled out the sword. She pulled it out of its sheathe, ran her hands over it, and found it to be a beautifully crafted blade. Having been raised by a blacksmith, Kumama knew fine craftsmanship when she felt it. Whomever had forged this had a steady hand and had to have had dedicated their entire life to the art of smithing. In fact, it was almost too perfect to be anything of dwarven creation let alone troll's work...

"These swords were not made by any troll." Thorin voiced her thoughts.

"Nor were they made by any smith among men," Gandalf confirmed, turning over the sword that had been handed to him and unsheathing it to inspect the sword. Kumama squinted through the dim light at her sword (something told her it was most likely an ornately decorated letter opener or even a small dagger, though the latter was less likely seeing as the tip was sharper than the edges of the blade).

"These were forged in Gondolin," Kumama murmured, recognizing the swirl of patterns on the blade as well as the wonderfully delicate balance between blade and hilt. No other sword (or letter opener) could be so light, swift to cut, and sure handled.

"Indeed," murmured Gandalf," by the High Elves of the First Age. You could not wish for a finer blade," he added sharply. Behind her she could hear the heavy sigh of Thorin as he unsheathed the blade to properly look at it.

Kumama tied the sheath onto a belt belonging to some unfortunate and looped the belt onto her pants as tight as it could go. Eventually she was forced to poke out an extra hole and it finally fit. Satisfied, she made for the entrance and almost hit into Dwalin.

"Sorry," she apologized. Dwalin just grunted, then focused his attention on a few blurred shapes, looking quite disgusted.

"We're makin' a long term deposit," Gloin said defensively as his comrades, whom Kumama recognized as Bofur and Nori by the blurred shape of their hair, filled their freshly dug hole. Inside lay a chest no doubt full of gold from the hoard.

"Let's get out of this foul place. Come on, let's go. Bofur! Gloin! Nori!" Thorin called the three dwarves as though chiding their behavior.

Bofur grinned broadly at Kumama as he passed and winked. She felt her cheeks go red and quickly glanced at the ground in order to hide her blush. Nori snorted and rolled his eyes at his friend's behavior. He was much too friendly for his own good.

"Best not to encourage him," rumbled a voice behind her. She did not have to look to tell that-

"Something's coming!"

"Gandalf-" the voice of their burglar rose.

"Stay together! Hurry now. Arm yourselves," Gandalf cried. Kumama fumbled with her sheathe and tried desperately to pull out the sword. She grasped at the hilt and tugged, losing her balance and falling only to be stopped by Bifur, who grunted down at her in a sort of broken Khudzel. Next to him Dwalin and Balin pulled out their battle axes.

The undergrowth ahead rustled from the oncoming threat. Indeed, it seemed, something was most certainly coming...and it was coming fast...very fast...

_**Perya-cemna undu: **_**Quenya phrase meaning "divide the earth beneath" (this being a rough translation since**_** perya**_**- means "divide in the middle")**

**What is this oncoming something? I is it a threat? Is it dangerous? Do we probably already know this anyways? Who warned Kumama against encouraging our beloved Bofur's behavior? Who knows?!**

**Please leave a review, any corrections as far as grammar goes or if there are any fluent Quenya linguists out their your help is much appreciated. **

**If you would like to see more of Life String take a look at Kumama's page on deviantart. She drew two very (as in extremely) impressive collages of my story with scenes from chapter one up to four as well as a fantastic drawing of what our pal Smithy looks like! **


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